The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(10)

After five years, the world’s shortest engagement, college, a tattoo, and some serious sinning, I thought I was over you. I found my passion and followed it. I gave my virginity to a worthy man who might have cherished it more than I did. And I found my fucking voice.

Then I saw you. And it was …

Nine across: Eleven letters. Hint: A calamity.

Catastrophe.

I found it therapeutic to write down my thoughts and feelings. It was the easiest way to let go of them. It had been years, not since my father died, that I felt the need to journal my thoughts. But losing Fisher brought out everything.

Anxiety.

Unsettled emotions.

Destructive hope.

Loss of direction.

I gave myself some time. Some time to sort out my feelings before taking a job anywhere. I let my resurrected naked fisherman emotions sort themselves out.

Rory kept me updated on Fisher during my break for perspective. It didn’t help my perspective.

Rory: Fisher’s doing better. A little stir crazy.

Rory: Fisher can’t sleep. Terrible anxiety.

Rory: Fisher tried to go back to work today. Angie is not happy.

Rory: Feeling so bad for Angie. It’s going to be a long road for her and Fisher.





Most of my replies were short like, “Sorry to hear that,” or “That’s too bad.”

Two weeks later, Rory called me.

“Hi.”

“I found you a job,” she said.

I laughed. “What makes you think I’m still looking for a job?”

“Because it’s two in the afternoon on a Thursday and you answered your phone on the first ring. And if you had a job, you would have told me by now.”

“Speaking of jobs, don’t you still have one?”

“My next client canceled at the last minute. Anyway, speaking of clients and jobs … this morning I had a new client. Know what she does?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” I said.

“She’s a midwife. She works in a clinic with three other midwives. They practice midwifery and all kinds of women’s healthcare. I’m actually going to start seeing her. She tests for hormone imbalances and stuff like that. I could use a good balancing. I told her about you, and she said she’d love to talk to you about possibly working with her, assisting in the clinic and during labors because she just lost her nurse whose husband got transferred to another state for his job. I told her I’d call you right away. I also gave her your contact information, so expect a call. She’s really excited that you assisted a midwife in Thailand for nearly a year.”

“She’s in Denver?”

“Well … yes. Of course.”

“How do you know I’m for sure still thinking about moving back to Denver?”

My relationship with Fisher was much better when there was a good twelve hundred miles between us. Going back to Denver would magnify everything again.

“Because you love Rose and me and you miss us. And did you hear me say midwife?”

It was a great opportunity.

“I’ll talk with her. No promises. How’s … Rose?”

“She’s fine. I guess a few of her students are driving her crazier than normal. She’s thinking it might be time to look for a new position, something in high school.”

“That’s probably smart. How’s …” I worked my way to my real question. Not that I didn’t care about Rose. “Fisher?”

“Oh, Fisher … I don’t know. I mean. He’s upset that he’s still in a cast. Upset that he can’t sleep. Upset that he can’t remember the people who work for him or anything else about his job. But if I’m reading between the lines correctly, he’s upset that he can’t remember the woman living with him. And I feel so incredibly bad for Angie. She’s considering taking a new job in pharmaceutical sales because it involves traveling, and she thinks it might be good for her and Fisher to have some separation. She’s hoping absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I gotta be honest with you, I’m not sure he’ll miss her. And it’s not her. It’s him. He’s hating life at the moment. Drinking more. Smiling less. Rose and I feel like enablers more than friends when we stop by to see him. It’s like he’s dying for an excuse to drink. And he knows Angie won’t drink with us because she’s too busy researching memory loss and a million ways to bring it back. It’s all very awkward.”

“Is he seeing a therapist?”

“No.” Rory laughed. “Angie is, but Fisher won’t. Not yet. He doesn’t feel comfortable talking to a stranger about a bunch of other strangers. His words.”

“Sounds about right. Well, everyone needs to let him find his own way through this. If he doesn’t want help, you can’t force it on him. And maybe Angie’s right. Giving him space might help. Stress doesn’t help the healing process, and his brain needs to heal.”

“Yeah, Rose and I told her to take the job, but Fisher’s family isn’t so sure. They think her job should be getting Fisher to fall in love with her again. But unrequited love is very hard on the heart.”

I nodded to myself. “Yes. It is.”

“Call me after you talk to Holly. That’s the midwife. Holly Dillon.”